


Chiaroscuro

by astronavigatrix



Series: A shadow thrives beside the light [1]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Bad Flirting, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Kayn is smug and needs to be put in his place, Lux is a spy for a reason, Lux ostensibly hates Ionian assassins less than Noxian anything, Noxians; why did it have to be Noxians?, Sharing a Bed, also known as: me using canon Lux lines to my advantage, but surprise! it's still a Noxian, don't let that sweetness and light fool you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 04:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11661948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astronavigatrix/pseuds/astronavigatrix
Summary: Demacia's interests have taken Lux far and wide; but when they take her toward the coast near Noxus, given only the vague notion of 'search and destroy' by her superiors, she can't imagine what the Noxians she's been sent to investigate are after. The answer to that question, unfortunately, findsher.





	Chiaroscuro

**Author's Note:**

> _Chiaroscuro_ ; noun-- the treatment of light and shade in drawing and painting.
> 
> Oops, my hands slipped. They slipped for like 7000 words.

    
    
    
          Vindor's marketplace was as lively as could be expected from a large port city. Traders from far and wide plied their wares in eager shouts, trying to outdo each other in both volume and presentation as the last fingers of light stretched over the horizon. Between them and the breaking of the waves beneath the docks, sailors loading and unloading and passengers and crew heading into the night for pursuits they could not accomplish at sea, the cacophony was a mighty one. In the dull glow of dusk, nearly a void of sound by comparison to those around him, Shieda Kayn left the ship he'd hidden himself on and slipped away from the shouts and the press of bodies while trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. For anyone else, it might have been a challenge. For Kayn, it was as easy as breathing, matching his steps to the lengthening of the shadows as the light continued to fade. He went over his objectives as he moved, marking travel time and distance as he moved to find the place Zed had instructed him to make himself known before he'd left. There, he'd find provisions, a map, and further guidance, should he need it; he doubted he would.   
  
        The sensation of uneven cobblestone beneath his feet reminds him of his childhood-- what little there was of it, back in Noxus. As an orphan, he was barely a person to most inhabitants of the power-hungry nation. With no one to take care of him, he'd learned to take care of himself. Even before Ionia, he had been among the most vicious, the most hardy of those he knew in the tunnels that served as a home for most of Noxus' unfortunate orphans. No nostalgia is ignited by the remembrance. Only a sense of disgust at how a nation who claimed to value power could overlook anyone's possible strength based entirely on their circumstances.   
  
        Noxus' power, he'd long since come to realize, was nothing but cheap tricks and cowardly tactics. Not that the Demacians were any better, but at the very least they weren't making claims of power; only protection. Another scoff threatened-- even that, he knew, was little more than pretense. But it was better than anything to come from Noxus High Command by a mile, for good or ill.   
  
"Oh-- excuse me...!"   
  
        Genuine and soft, the young woman's voice carries the lilt of the irrepressibly light, and Kayn's narrowed eyes fall on dark hair slipping across a slightly ruddy cheek from beneath the well-worn leather of her capelet's hood and into brilliant blue eyes. The girl is dressed inconspicuously enough for travel, but the flash of wood behind her back marks her as something of an oddity-- wait. He frowns, wondering where the wood in question had disappeared to, and looks back into that shadowed face. The darkness cast by the hood is obfuscating enough that he can really only make out a flash of her eyes (darker now? or lighter?) again as she ducks her head, the white of her teeth set anxiously against her lower lip. Taking back the half-step she'd nearly taken into his path, the girl skirts around him with the hint of a nervous smile on her face and then skitters away. Despite that, he senses no fear from her, even with all the telltale physical signs evident. Those eyes showed more backbone than a great many of the last few warriors he'd killed. It was almost a shame he was on a mission-- he might have liked to see how far he could bend it before it broke.   
  
        For her part, Luxanna Crownguard lets her steps take her quickly away from the young man with the shadows creeping at his feet, wondering just what Ionia has let loose upon Valoran's shores.

 

* * *

 

        Nakuri stood no chance.  
  
        There is no remorse on Kayn's face when the other falls beneath his new blade, only the vaguest sense of _disappointment_. Nakuri had been far from a worthy opponent, and yet he'd still tried to fight him for possession of the Darkin blade. Were it anyone else, they might have considered him brave; Kayn only considers him a fool for not knowing when he was outmatched. The Darkin within the blade-- Rhaast-- sneers alongside him, and his desire for more blood urges Kayn beyond the arch of the Noxtoraa, toward Noxus.   
  
        The sight of those who had so easily discarded him bleeding at his feet, it taunts, velvety and enticing, would be  _so_ satisfying. Kayn scoffs, and though he looks over his shoulder at the road toward his birthplace, he simply shoulders the scythe and turns his back to it. He has a mission to complete, after all, and no one is going to keep him from it.   
  
        That, at least, is his intention; the Noxians have other ideas.  
  
        Relief for the last watch comes more quickly than anticipated-- or perhaps between the dispatching of the previous ones, then the caravan that followed, and his fight with Nakuri, the time for the change had simply come. Whatever the reason, he finds himself suddenly beset by a fresh caravan of guards. Rhaast is jubilant, the sight of more adversaries a welcome one. Kayn, on the other hand, curses Nakuri's idiocy and considers his options. The sight of the weapon in his hands, and the fact that he seems to be perfectly intact despite it, gives him a bit of leeway. He has conquered the weapon, at least in part, and that is more strength than any of their ilk have managed. Perhaps they are confident in their number; perhaps they are simply stupid. Whatever the case, before he can make a decision, one of them cries a command to apprehend him and, without hesitation, the Noxians spring forward.   
  
"Alright," he breathes, the thrill of battle threading, electric, through his veins, "let's see the extent of that Noxian might you're all so proud of--!"   
  
          Even as he makes his declaration, however, he dives backward, into the shadow of one of the nearby trees, and then flashes a smirk from the periphery of the woods. Like the fools they are, the Noxians follow him deeper into their soon-to-be grave.

 

* * *

 

        Once is a coincidence, twice is a pattern. This is what Lux thinks when she finds herself at the noxtoraa and sees the owner of the same bare skin and long plait from days before, grinning sharp defiance in the face of a small company of Noxian soldiers. It's ironic, she thinks, because though his clothing is Ionian as is the art he's using (Lux had sent the Illuminators word about the oddity, and they'd responded swiftly) his facial structure belies Noxian heritage. Retreating behind the tree as he takes a couple of steps backward, she can only pray she hasn't been seen by the Noxians as he draws their sight with his movements. His voice sounds a challenge and curiosity sparks unwisely within her at the turn against his own (former? perhaps) countrymen. Lux is still wondering how to proceed when, from the shadow beneath her feet, a hand snaps out to curve against her throat, and the gasp of air she intakes is almost released as a scream before it moves upward, covering her mouth. She doesn't know when he'd slipped into the shadows (or that he could, and part of her delights in this new knowledge) but the fact that he'd sensed her despite being in the dark speaks volumes of how used to it he is.   
  
        It also explains how some of the guards beneath the arch looked as if they'd simply dropped where they'd been standing.  
  
"Well, well..." He leans in close, forehead nearly pressed to hers, and Lux's eyes widen to see that one of his eyes has turned red, the other still the fathomless dark blue of an ocean. "What have we here? Reinforcements? No... if they'd known I was coming their guard would have been higher. An admirer, perhaps...?" He smirks, head cocking to the side, and the hand over her mouth taps a single finger against the apple of her cheek. "Did I really make such an impression?"   
  
        Lux makes an indignant, frustrated noise beneath his hand, and lashes her own out to the side out of the cover of the tree, and ignites an orb of light in her hand. The scythe-wielding assassin takes a step back, startled, and raises his head with wide eyes when he hears a rough voice yell 'there!' Lux takes the opportunity to knock him off-balance with one of the tricks she'd learned to use as a young girl fighting against the much larger Garen and dives into the cover of night, leaving her light there a few moments more to light the way for the Noxians. Not having expected her ability-- a mage, he thinks dimly and with some wonder, and a light mage at that-- he's thrown enough off- guard to allow the getaway. The fact makes something in him set his teeth on edge, and as the Noxians approach, he slips into the shadows once more. First, he'll deal with them, and then he'll find that pretty little mage and get the truth out of her. _By hook_ , he thinks as his fingers tighten around the scythe in his hand, _or by crook_.   
  
        As he sinks into the shadows once again, Rhaast laughs.  
  
         It inspires an irritation in the assassin that he takes out on the soldiers searching for him. The light has long since faded, whether because the mage is no longer in proximity or because she'd only needed the distraction; he neither knows nor cares. All that matters is that now, once more under the veil of shadows, he descends upon his pursuers like a man possessed. The irony of that idiom in particular, is not lost on him. The first Noxian is hooked from the rear of the group, scythe dragged across his neck in a swift yank and twist that allows Kayn to drag his burbling soon-to-be corpse behind a tree. He sets it down gently, if only to keep from giving away his position, and then assessed the bodies in front of him. A step forward, then another and another-- in a moment he's at a run, darting through the bodies of the three at the rear of the group and stopping in the center of their formation. He pauses only long enough to give them time to see him there, gaping at his sudden appearance while their fellows stagger from his sudden push through their bodies. Then he drops into a low sweep, taking a good number of them off their feet (more accurately, their  _knees_ ) and then turning back to those he'd come through. One of them is down entirely, the first he'd come through, but the other two are turning, staggering as if to run away; Kayn twists and lunges forward, scythe and shadow in harmony, and runs it down and through their spines. At the sound of footsteps behind him, he turns, ready to meet the last of them with his scythe poised, only to blink rapidly, eyes straining, as light cages the body before him. Behind it, he can see a pale hand stretching out of the darkness, the light of the cage brightening, searing-- literally and figuratively, if the sudden stench of burnt flesh is any indication.   
  
        There is no pity in her eyes when her fist closes and the cage constricts with her will, scorching lines into and through the man in her magic's grasp.  
  
        Kayn stares, momentarily bewildered, but then streams forward, a ribbon of darkness, until he's got a hand on her neck again. Once more, those blue eyes show no fear, though now her hair is an aureate cascade over her face, the side of his wrist.  
  
"Another trick of the light?" He hisses, and her mouth quirks into a little half-smile, sweetness and brilliant, brilliant (blinding) light.  
  
"One of many," she responds without hesitation, her hand coming up to smooth her hair away from his skin, gripping tight to his wrist. "I'd show you more, but I'm fairly certain the Noxians on their way won't care to give me the time to do so."  
  
"How can more be on their way? They're all--!"  
  
        She smiles, and it's both gently condescending and disbelieving all at once.  
  
"Come now-- you didn't really think they  _all_ followed you into this forest? They might be Noxians, but even  _they_ aren't that dumb." A pat to his wrist, gentle, her mouth still curved in that infuriating smile. "You really should be more aware of your surroundings!"   
  
        Kayn snarls, grip on her windpipe tightening, and the smile only fades from her lips because she's glaring at him now, light spinning in the hand that had been at her side, pressing hot and growing hotter against his stomach.   
  
"You can try and kill me," she says, soft voice now edged with a slight hoarseness from his grip, "or you can let me help you get back to port."   
  
"And why should I do that? You're nothing but a liability--!"   
  
"Perhaps," she agrees, shrugging her shoulders. "But I could just blast a hole in you before you kill me and  _then_ where will you be?"  
  
        Kayn stares at her, disbelieving that she's so utterly unafraid but-- no. No she's afraid, alright. Terrified. The signs are there, from the dilation of her eyes to the slight tremor in the arm she's raised to press closer still to his skin. Yet despite that, she's not giving up, not giving in to her fear. It startles him to even think, but where he has  _mastered_ fear to use against his opponents, she may have actually  _conquered_ it. Eyes still narrowed, he loosens his grip on her throat enough that she drops properly back onto her own two feet. Despite stumbling, she remains upright, though the light in her hand doesn't dissipate.   
  
"If you're going to come with me, you're going to have to do  _that_ a lot less. Think you can handle being without a little light?" His tone is mocking, but she only flicks her wrist at him, dismissive, and brings her wand up in front of her.   
  
"Only children are afraid of the dark," she replies matter-of-factly, as the wand begins to spin in place in front of her. "And I'll douse it in a moment-- first, I need to give the Noxians something else to worry about."   
  
        The night  _ignites_.

 

* * *

 

        They slip into the darkness, the blonde running hard enough that the hood slips off her head, blonde hair a banner of gold behind her. Kayn follows at a more sedate pace, wondering if he should be surprised by the ease with which she navigates in the woods, hopping deftly over roots and obstacles until finally she stops, breathless, and turns to look for him. He appears from her shadow, barely winded, and she wrinkles her nose at him in a show of... irritation?  
  
"Wish I had it that easy," she scoffs, lifting a hand to wipe sweat from her brow. The bracelet on her wrist glints faintly in the moonlight, and he has to wonder if it's really that bright, or if it's merely another side-effect of  _her_. Hand dropping from her forehead to her chest, she inhales deeply to settle her breathing, and then looks back the way they'd come, at the flames flickering high into the sky. "That should... keep them busy for a while. They wouldn't care normally, but since it's so close to one of those stupid archways..."   
  
        Her venom when she speaks of Noxians is at odds with the way she addresses nearly everything else-- even the way she'd threatened to blow him open for manhandling her. He tilts his head at her, wordless, and she gives him an arch look, turning away from the flames once again.   
  
"Come on, we've still got a ways to go before we can stop. There's an abandoned water mill nearby; we can bunk there until morning."   
  
        Kayn waits until she's started moving to speak, making her have to halt in her footsteps to catch his voice, soft and dangerous, scythe blade dragging along the ground, the barest rustling of leaves its only giveaway.   
  
"You certainly  _do_ think you're in charge, don't you?"   
  
"I'm _sorry_ ," she says, not sounding it in the slightest, hands lifting but body still facing away from him, "but I didn't know you were more familiar with the terrain around here than I am. If you really want to lead then go on-- I'm sure you've got plenty of ideas on where we can hide out for the night instead."  
  
        He doesn't, and he's certain she knows it by the way her hands drop to her hips (which he finds his eyes drawn to and immobilized at by the motion) as she leans her weight to one side. He growls, irritated, and in the next moment has her by the elbow, walking her towards the dark side of a nearby tree.   
  
"Hey-- what are you doing... let go--!"   
  
"Take a deep breath," he says, instead of listening, and he doesn't bother to listen to whether she does or not before he hauls them both through the shadow and back out a few hundred yards away. "It'll be faster like this," he says when they emerge, and she gives him a look that is, he assumes, an attempt at being ferocious. It only manages to make her look adorably sullen, in his eyes, until something in the light  _shifts_ , and he nearly balks at the change. It dissipates in a moment, and she smirks at him, shaking her arm out of his grip to take hold of his wrist instead.   
  
"Southwest," she says lightly, as if completely unafraid that he'll leave her trapped within the shadows. "If we hurry, we might make it before the moon starts to set."   
  
"And if we  _don't_ hurry?" He asks, solely for the sake of irritating her. It doesn't seem to work, and she just shrugs her shoulders.   
  
"Less beauty sleep, I suppose. Though I don't think you should miss out on much of that," she adds, sly, "recent developments have put you in a  _serious_ deficit."   
  
          Kayn is speechless; Rhaast roars with laughter in the back of his mind.   
  
_I like her_ , he rasps, sounding entirely too serious for Kayn's liking, _perhaps we should keep her as a plaything_.  
  
          An image arises, unbidden by Kayn's own mind, of the myriad uses of 'plaything' in Rhaats's vernacular, and Kayn promptly shoves it down as far into the recesses of his mind as he can manage.   
  
"Oh, I don't know about that," he hums instead, turning his hand momentarily out of her grip to draw his thumb down the center of her wrist. He sways forward into her immediate space, eyes half-lidded and mouth spreading into a slow smirk. "You seemed to like what you saw well enough back at port."   
  
        He watches that same ruddiness spread over her cheeks and delights in the fact that his shot in the dark was right; she lets him enjoy that for a second or two before her hand retakes his wrist, the other reaching up to skim the air over the left side of his face, as if pulling back from touching him at the last moment.   
  
"Like I said," she replies with surprising sincerity, " _recent_ developments." 

        Kayn frowns, but doesn't ask-- instead he simply turns southwest and hauls her forward and between shadows.   
  
        He notes he never once has to remind her to hold her breath.

 

* * *

 

 

        The next few days are an exercise in Kayn's patience-- what little of it there is left. Rhaast constantly demands combat, but Kayn is in no mood to seek it; neither, he reminds himself, does he have the time. The girl, on the other hand, becomes both more and less of an enigma. More because she's obviously Demacian, and has less love for his former countrymen than even he. Less, because she's a Demacian, but she has magic and is as far away from the nation's petricite walls and magic slums as possible.   
  
"Are you exiled, then?"   
  
        Oddly, the question leaves him without a second thought, an idle curiosity as they trek through the thick of the woods in order to keep away from the road and the Noxian patrols roaming it in search of them-- and the weapon. For as little as he's cared to speak with her past the first night save for an offhand barb here or there, the inquiry is intrusive and he knows it. It's obvious  _she_ thinks so as well, if the sharp, suspicious look she flashes over her shoulder at him is any indication. For a moment, he thinks she's not going to answer, and the heavy breath she exhales through her nose lends further credence to the theory. However, to his surprise (and hers too, really) her hands tighten on the staff she holds in her hands, having been using it to occupy herself as they walked.   
  
"Not... exactly."   
  
"Oh?" He knows his tone borders on solicitous, but it's either listen to her, or drown in the incessant demands of the Darkin in his mind. He'll take the mouthy Demacian any day. "That sounds like a  _story_."   
  
"It might be," she agrees easily, twirling the wand around her wrist and forearm in a smooth, elegant motion, "but I'm afraid it's not one I'm allowed to tell."   
  
        Merely the idea of this mouthy girl not being 'allowed' to do something strikes him as immediately ridiculous. He lets her know as much on the heels of a disbelieving scoff.   
  
"As if you'd listen to what anyone told you to do."  
  
"You'd find I'm quite cooperative," comes the easy reply, an indecipherable look flashed at him over her shoulder. "When I have reason to be."   
  
          Kayn considers her words as he watches her back, the slow swaying of her hair in time with her bounding steps almost distracting. If she isn't exiled, but she can't say why she's outside Demacia, then...  
  
"...a spy?  _You_?"   
  
        Turning her head sharply, she narrows her eyes at him, as if unsure if he'd really figured her out so easily. Someone else might have just presumed her coy-- but he's heard enough out of that clever mouth the past few days that he knows she wouldn't have dropped such blatant hints if she didn't want him to figure them out. Or perhaps she simply thought he couldn't be bothered. Either way, he has the measure of her now and it's a far different one than he'd been estimating.   
  
"Don't look so surprised," he murmurs, and slinks into the nearest shadow like a wraith, slipping up from one before her and tilting her chin up with the knuckle of one finger, "I'm no fool... and neither are you. Tell me, are you always so easy to get information from, little spy?"  
  
"Do you think I'd still be alive if I was?"   
  
        Sullen, the words catch him by surprise-- but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes her point. Demacia's famously anti-magic sentiments would be blown apart if a magic-user was captured and proven to be a Demacian spy. They'd certainly disavow the girl-- or have her executed-- long before that could happen. Her displeasure with the fact is evident, and he cannot help but laugh at the similarity between them, this Demacian girl held in service at the price of her own life and he, little more than disposable canon-fodder in the eyes of Noxus. The fact that both nations didn't seem to hesitate to throw their own young to the wolves further cemented his disdain for Noxus' supposed might; and now, the disdain for Demacia's righteous 'justice' was growing alongside it.  
  
"Yet here you are, letting them risk your life... your blind devotion to your nation despite that is almost commendable."   
  
        His words make her flinch, and she jerks her chin away from his touch, moving to step around him. Face set grimly, there's still an underlying waver of hesitation; she is still so enamored with the ideals of her homeland. Pitiful.  
  
"There's still good in Demacia," she insists softly, surely. "There is. They just-- it just needs..."   
  
"What," Kayn prompts, the curve of his mouth cruel, his next words surgical. "A guiding light?"   
  
        She lifts her chin at him, defiant, and nods once-- as if it's that simple.   
  
"Of course. Doesn't everyone?"   
  
        Kayn spreads his hands wide, and drops into her shadow to take the lead from a few yards away, the darkness at his feet writhing purposefully.   
  
"I never have."  
  
        Pity consumes her face, a slow show of condolence writing itself across her features. It makes his stomach writhe, to think someone pities him, something wild and feral inside him scrambling and clawing with the want to prove his strength. For once, it isn't Rhaast, but Kayn ignores it all the same, even as the words he knows are coming leave her mouth, careful and sincere.   
  
"Then I feel sorry for you."  
  
        Kayn scoffs and storms ahead. 

 

* * *

 

 

        They're approaching a small village for the night when she stops short, looking up at him as if a notion has just struck her. The place is out of the way enough that no Noxians should be visiting, but just in case they are, she's assured that her light tricks can help disguise them a little, if need be. He stares at her until she takes a breath, as if steeling herself to speak for once, and he feels an eyebrow lift in slow amusement at her sudden hesitation. He's never seen her so at a loss for how to say something.   
  
"What... do I call you?" She asks at last, hands spread before her, curious. He raises that single brow higher, incredulous.    
  
"Why would you  _need_ to call me anything?"   
  
"Considering they'll assume we're traveling together," she begins and ignores his growl of 'don't remind me', looking irritated, "won't it seem strange if we just say 'hey' or 'you' when we're... talking to each other? Never mind if they ask us about each other."   
  
        Though he hates to admit it, she has a point. That they know this little about each other is a testament only to the fact that neither of them actually _wants_ to know too much about the other. Their little chat not a day before had pushed the boundaries, and though he now had a bit of information to use against her should he need to, he was sure she knew more about him-- about Rhaast-- than she was letting on.   
  
"...Kayn," he supplies, after a moment, sighing deeply and motioning her forward.   
  
"Lux," she replies and of course, he thinks, of course a girl like her would end up with a name so overt. He doubts its her real name, of course, but it's better than 'you'.  
  
        A soft scoff is the only indication he gives that he's heard and, with her meaningful glance at Rhaast, he deposits the scythe into his own shadow with a flourish-- always close, but never obvious. Curiosity flickers over her face at that-- he's noticed it whenever he uses one of his shadow abilities, the intrigue. It makes him want to taunt her over it, just to see if she'd give in and ask to know more. It would be delightful, he thinks, to turn someone so luminous toward the shadows.   
  
        (In reality, he senses she would never acquiesce.)  
  
        They've managed to steal a cloak to hide what Rhaast's influence has done to his body, though he remains bare beneath it to the waist. His face... well. He can only assume his  _companion_ has a thought about that. Stares are nearly tangible when they enter the town, Lux now strawberry-blonde and aqua-eyed, walking close to his side in order to keep whatever illusion she's set over his face intact. They manage to get a room at the single inn in town without much fuss, but when it comes time to settle in for dinner, the chatty waitress drops a bomb on them along with their appetizers-- small, meat-stuffed fried dumplings instead of the simple soup they'd ordered due to Lux's dwindling funds.   
  
"The owner sends his well-wishes," she drawls sweetly, setting the bowl between them along with two mugs of mulled wine that they're both certain they didn't order. "Been a while since we had a pair of runaways like you two, but he knows how hard it can be." The woman leans in, speaking in something like a stage whisper, well-meaning and just the slightest bit sympathetic. "Ain't easy, a star-crossed pair like you making your way outta Noxus, yeah?"   
  
        Lux stares, horrified, and Kayn nearly chokes on the dumpling he'd already popped into his mouth, his own eyes wide. The woman mistakes their reactions, however, and makes what's meant to be a soothing motion with her hand, chuckling sheepishly.   
  
"Now, now, nothing to worry about. We won't sell you out if they come looking," she assures with a flicker of her gaze toward Kayn, and he can feel the subtle and ill-placed regret in her gaze. "Looks like you two have had a hard enough time getting this far as it is."   
  
        Fingers curling into his palm, something in his face must give away his intention to broadcast just how wrong she is to the room, only to have Lux set her hands over his, a surprisingly genuine-looking look of gratitude in place.   
  
"Thank you," she murmurs with such vehement gratefulness that he's almost fooled. "We... it's been a long trip. Even this kindness is more than we could hope for."  
  
"Course, course," the woman mutters, and she looks so  _glad_ to be able to help them that Kayn has to bite back a sound of disgust, stifling it and the look on his face with another dumpling. "Here, we'll have you two fed and rested and ready to head off in no time. Takin' to port, I'm guessing?"   
  
"Ionia," Lux confides, and sends a look so gentle and affectionate in his direction that he has to duck his head in order not to laugh. "He came back for me, just like he said he would, so..."   
  
        Trailing off with a demure lowering of her gaze, Lux raises and lowers her shoulders in seemingly helpless adoration; that has the woman sniffling and nodding, and giving Kayn another careful look. He manages to settle a gruff look on his face, hoping he looks enough the part to pass himself off as the strong, silent type, and nearly sighs in relief when the woman nods with a knowing hum.  
  
"Well, food'll be out soon, don't worry none," a rap to the table, for luck, and she gives the two of them a warm smile. "Best of luck to ya, eh?"   
  
"Thank you  _so_ much," Lux simpers, and Kayn nods once, sharply. The woman departs, likely eager to share their 'story' with the rest of the staff, and Kayn drops his cheek onto his hand as Lux seems to sag in relief. When she looks up at him, as if to gauge his reaction, he stuffs another dumpling in his mouth and winks.  
  
        Lux only takes a long drink of her wine.  
  
        Nearly an hour and three cups later, he's watching her from the corner of his eye as she stands, sways in place, and then shakes herself lightly, turning to head back up to their room. Knowing that without her he'd immediately stick out like a sore thumb, he follows and, at the curious looks of a few of those around them, moves forward to wrap an arm around her waist. Leaning close over her, making it look as if he's whispering sweet nothings into her ear, he curls a strand of her hair around a finger and tugs.   
  
"Forgetting something?"  
  
        That only prompts her to move faster, and he smirks and lingers just at her back until they reach their door, at which point he reaches past her to open it and push her gently through, closing it firmly behind them as he enters. Sliding the lock into place, he turns back to assess the state of the room. There's a single window on the far side, its curtains half-open and a breeze blowing gently through it. Crossing the floor in a few quick strides, he closes and locks it firmly, then shuts the curtains. Only those two points of entry, the door to a closet of a washroom on one wall, a folding screen in one corner of the room, and a single, small but comfortable-looking bed pressed against the wall just under the window. Shucking the cloak at last, Kayn pulls Rhaast from his shadow, and sets the scythe against the wall before throwing himself down on the bed. Still standing just in front of the door, Lux's eyes (now their natural bright blue) settle on it, and for a moment, Kayn wonders if he'll have to fight  _her_ for it as well.   
  
        Whatever temptation Rhaast might offer to most, however, seems to have little effect on Lux, and instead she slides her gaze slowly to him, a frown tugging at the corners of her lips.   
  
"The bed," she declares as if the wisdom she's about to impart is obvious, "is  _mine_."  
  
"I got here first," he replies, crossing one heel over the opposite knee, arms coming up behind his head.  
  
"I _paid_ for it," Lux informs him, indignant, and Kayn cracks open one recently-closed eye in challenge.   
  
"You're not going to move me," he informs her, and after a moment's consideration, Lux bends, beginning to undo her boots. Kayn hasn't bothered, but the thought is tempting. Once she's set her boots aside, however, Lux sets her own weapon aside and, without hesitation, steps up to the side of the bed and drops across his torso like a stone. His arms barely come up to catch her in time to keep her from knocking the breath (and possibly the dinner) out of him, and he stares at her sullen expression as she squirms in his grip.  
  
"Get. Off. The bed," she growls down at him, pushing her hands against his chest to give herself more leverage, one of her knees bracing against the mattress to break his grip.  
  
"My, and here I thought a nice Demacian girl like you," Kayn hooks an ankle behind her knee, throwing her off-kilter, and promptly uses his hold on her upper arms to flip her over onto the bed, the mattress creaking with the force and motion, "would be better at _sharing_."   
  
        Lux makes a small, startled noise, and Kayn hovers over her, predatory. The tension in her shoulders is palpable, and after a moment, Kayn realizes what she's dreading and scoffs, dropping off to the side of her with a sneer.   
  
"I'm a lot of things, little light, but I won't take anything by force that I could much more easily get with a little effort."  
  
        Lux colors, displeased, and rolls to face him, though there is a sheepishness underlying the challenge in her voice when she snaps:   
  
"Don't flatter yourself."   
  
"Oh? You don't think so?"   
  
"Of course not," she replies loftily, and he knows she'd be crossing her arms if she could, nose lifting into the air. "You're entirely too full of yourself."   
  
        He sets a hand against the small of her back, pressing her a few inches closer, and bends his head to hers. Blue eyes go wide as saucers as he does, and he leans in further until his nose brushes hers.  
  
"That may be, but it's not," his fingers drag slowly across the bottom of her doublet, taking advantage of the thinner fabric there, "without good reason, now is it?"   
  
       Her breath hitches, and she looks at him as if she can't quite figure out what his intentions are-- but then she seems to decide that whatever they are, they aren't worth her reacting, and rolls over to face away from him, curling her hands up by her face. She never answers him, and really, that's all the answer he needs.

 

* * *

 

       Morning breaks with little fanfare other than Lux's soft humming as soon as the light filters through the curtains. They're on the road before most of the inn is even awake, a proper night's rest bolstering their energy and their speed. Luck lands them a ride aboard a passing caravan from Piltover, and Kayn settles himself in the shadows of a wagon while Lux chatters with one of the merchants, discussing the prices of some textile or another. He falls into something like a doze, but he's still awake, Rhaast once again taking up the greater portion of his mental energies to suppress. The longer they go without a fight, the more insistent the Darkin becomes. Whether fortunate or not, they meet no trouble on the road, and by the time the convoy is settling in for the night, he's feeling even more on edge than he was before. He and Lux are given a small tent to one side of the camp, the presumption of 'lovers' still sticking to them. When Lux wakes him to drag him toward the edge of the wood in order to speak to him, he can't help but wonder if there's not a reason for it.   
  
        Once far enough from camp, Lux dives at him, wand tossed aside suddenly as her fists swing with surprising speed. He ducks and weaves her boxing for a few minutes before he realizes-- she's trying to help him work off some of the energy that's been building in him through the day. Though he's not sure how he feels about it, he throws himself into practice against her regardless. She isn't much of a match for him, but she's fast and tricky, and more than once he falls for the misdirection of a subtle illusion. But even with her little tricks, he and his shadows have her worn down and pinned beneath him after little more than an hour. His muscles burn slightly from the exertion, and though he's surprised that she seems to have given him more of a workout than he'd anticipated he's also, grudgingly, somewhat impressed. It would be easy, after all, for someone like her to be reliant entirely on the destructive capabilities of her magic. He can respect, however, that that's not the case-- though he wonders at just how she'd gotten such good training with magic so obvious and powerful as hers.   
  
       He doesn't ask, but he almost wants to.   
  
       They reach Vindor not long after the sun has set the next evening. Lux stays behind to help the merchants with their animals and their wagons but Kayn? Kayn has more important matters to attend to. The brothers of the order that had helped him when he'd arrived seem wholly unprepared to see him return hale and whole-- more so to see the scythe rise from his shadow and into his hands. Between their surprise and the jealousy he can sense running through them like an undertow, they still somehow manage to book him passage on the next ship setting out to Ionia.   
  
        Kayn has no doubt that one of them will try to take the scythe from him.  
  
        On his way to the ship the next evening, he's not surprised to find an ambush awaits him at the dock where he's meant to board as discreetly as he can. He  _is_ surprised to have light rush past him in the middle of a battle and cut a couple of his brothers down to size.   
  
"Come to see me off?" He mocks, and her hard expression isn't lost on him. He continues to smirk regardless.   
  
"I was sent to destroy that thing, you know," she tells him without hesitation, and Kayn takes a step back, wondering if her light isn't actually capable of it. "...I was. But..." She glances in the direction of the noxtoraa they'd met under and then the ship he's about to board. "If it's not Noxus, then maybe..."   
  
        It strikes Kayn then, that in the time she'd spent with him, she'd likely been taking the measure of him. Figuring out if it was better to leave the weapon in his hands, or find some way to dispose of it herself. A multitude of emotions run through him then, though his fingers tighten on the scythe; he's not letting his guard down for  _anyone_ ; not even her. Lux's hands lift, placating, and she shakes her head.    
  
"You can do it," she says, almost as if she's still thinking about it. "I think... no, I'm sure. If it's you, then you can handle it."  
  
"Of course I can handle it," he retorts, smug and dismissive-- he doesn't want to think about the way her words are twisting his insides into knots. Expectations from anyone but Zed are... difficult to fathom. "I've been handling it so far, haven't I?"   
  
        At that, she nods, capitulating, and drops her hands, taking a step forward-- then another and another until she stands before him. Her eyes stare up at him, brilliant and peerless, and he doesn't understand why she's staring until she lifts a hand to prod at his chest.   
  
"If I hear about you losing it," she adds, "I'll come and handle the situation myself. That's a promise."  
  
        It's more than that-- it's a threat. Even if she believes in him, she's not so stupid as to do so blindly. He wonders who her spy in Ionia will be, and whether they'll be able to send word to her in time. Whether or not she has one, and whether or not he succeeds, he wonders what she'll do if such a challenge were to present itself. Staring each other down for another moment, Kayn breaks the stalemate by leaning forward once again, knuckle tapping the underside of her chin. He leans in close then, and skims his lips over her cheek, exhaling a throaty chuckle against her earlobe.   
  
"If you ever find yourself in Ionia regardless, perhaps you'll consider seeking the shadows. I think there's a thing or two you'd care to learn from them."   
  
        Lux's face is impressively mild when she steps back, slinging her wand onto her shoulder, turning away from him.  
  
"Shadows thrive beneath the light, you know," she throws back over her shoulder as she strides away. "Maybe you should give it a try sometime."  
  
        Cryptic though it may be, the words are yet another token of her faith; he knows enough about Noxus and Demacia both to want to bring some good to either-- to both. Whether he will or not... the invitation to help her do so lingers, even as he turns to board his ship, not once looking back.  
  
        It's something to consider, at least.  
    
    
  

**Author's Note:**

> Lux's theme for this is [All the King's Horses](https://youtu.be/u1j2LoW3P14). Kayn's is [No Man's Land](https://youtu.be/gOsQJgPhimw). Other noteworthy pieces include [Game of Survival](https://youtu.be/LL5mZi4OSlQ) & [Monsters](https://youtu.be/2FsH-soetL0).


End file.
